


Echoes

by agreatwave



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Relationships, Canon-Typical Mentions of Child Neglect, F/M, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agreatwave/pseuds/agreatwave
Summary: "It was undeniably him. Here, somehow, in the middle of her Friday errands."orPetunia Dursley sees something unexpected and extremely familiar.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 33
Kudos: 244





	Echoes

**Echoes**

Petunia Dursley was running out of patience. She should have known better than to come to London on a Friday, but she always managed to forget how different the city became at the first hint of sun and warmth, the streets suddenly busier, the people walking slower and talking louder. Her usual errands were so much more easily accomplished in drizzle, when most people stayed indoors and those who were forced to venture out completed their tasks with terse efficiency. It had taken her nearly twice as long to get through her errands, but now she only had two things left on her list; she just needed to get to a bank and then retrieve Vernon’s trousers at the seamstress before she could take the train back to Surrey. 

The bank was blessedly cool and empty when she entered and the teller suitably uninterested in idle chatter. Petunia made her withdrawal with little fanfare, and looked forward with relief to the thought of one more errand before she could return home to begin preparing dinner. She stepped out of the bank and back onto the busy street, fussing to get her purse back in her handbag, and thought, very briefly, that perhaps the sun was a welcome change after all as she felt it settle warmly on her cheek.

She could have gone about the rest of her day like any other had something not caught her attention at the cafe next door. When she looked back on the moment, she could never be sure quite what it was. A glint of light reflecting off his glasses, perhaps. A familiar movement. The low hum of his voice as he ordered an espresso at the counter, somehow standing out amongst all the other, much louder voices drifting towards her from the cafe terrace.

He stood unexpectedly tall and broad shouldered, lean and muscled, and bronzed from the sun. She might not have recognized him had she not known his face so well, had he not flicked his hair out of his eye to briefly reveal a peculiar scar. It was strange to think that he was the same sallow skinned, scrawny little boy she’d known for so many years. Despite all the differences, it was undeniably him. Here, somehow, in the middle of her Friday errands.

Petunia pushed away thoughts of windowless cupboards, spiders, and scraps of food. She was practiced at not thinking about things that she found unsavoury. Or painful. What Petunia had never been particularly good at was minding her own business. Looking away when she should.

Suddenly, his head rose as if on instinct and a smile so brilliant it was nearly blinding took over his face. Before she could follow his eyeline to determine the source of his sudden happiness, a blur of bright colour was already whirling towards him at breakneck speed and Petunia barely had time to blink before Harry was catching a small red-headed woman in his arms, laughing loudly as he stumbled back slightly. Petunia let out an audible gasp and took half a step backward into the shade of the building behind her, her heart thudding against her chest.

She didn’t actually look much like Lily, now that Petunia looked closer. Not in the way that he had grown to be practically a clone of his handsome father (Petunia could admit that Potter had been handsome, if only in the privacy of her own head). The woman Petunia was looking at now was shorter, slightly slimmer, her build more lean and athletic than Lily’s had been. Her hair was more of a flaming, fiery red than the dark ruby red that Petunia had always secretly envied. Her skin was freckled rather than porcelain. And the eyes, of course. The eyes that he had inherited were not mirrored in his companion’s face; hers were a warm, cinnamon brown when she pulled away from him enough that Petunia could catch a glimpse of them.

His eyes (Lily’s eyes) were glittering now as he stared down at the woman he’d finally set down, his hands still wrapped tightly around her waist as if he was wont to let her move too far from him, which didn’t seem a reasonable danger judging by the way her hands curled into the ends of his still somewhat unkempt hair. Hair that Petunia herself had never been able to tame into place and that the nameless girl seemed to be more interested in mussing up even further as she rose up on her toes to kiss him confidently.

Normally, Petunia would purse her lips at such a public display of affection, avert her eyes, and perhaps make a show of grumbling as she walked past. Now she found that she couldn’t look away as she watched their embrace. He looked younger now than he had when she last saw him, Petunia thought, the lines on his forehead smoothing as he kissed the red-headed girl softly, earnestly. They pulled back from each other after a moment too long, and Petunia watched as he pressed his forehead against the girl’s, one hand tangled in the ends of her long hair, murmuring something to her that made her sigh happily and smile.

It was startling to see them together, the lines between past and present blurring hopelessly even with the differences in the girls appearance. Petunia felt rather dizzy, a little ill, her heart still beating erratically in her chest as she fought against the image of another day in May, another messy head of black hair pressed close to a head of red. He - the Potter boy - James, had looked at her sister that way. Like she was precious and altogether overwhelming at the same time. Like being with her was at once as natural as breathing and a constant surprise to him, an impossible miracle. Petunia remembered hating him, hating them, even before their disastrous dinner with Vernon, but even through the cloud of her disgust for all that her sister was, she remembered being able to see with crystal clarity how deliriously happy Lily had been. How in love they’d been.

And now this girl was looking at Petunia’s nephew with much the same adoration, happiness practically spilling out from her very pores as she brushed a fond, familiar thumb over his forehead where Petunia knew his scar must still be. It was that gesture, so small and unremarkable, but so inexplicably intimate that finally jolted Petunia into tearing her eyes away, glancing around her surroundings as if expecting the find them changed, bell bottoms and cigarettes indoors and any number of markers of her young adulthood surrounding her. 

Instead, there was today, exactly as it had been before she saw him. Suits and pagers and swiftly moving business people mixing with relaxed patrons basking in one of the first truly warm days of early summer. A dead sister, a dead brother-in-law, and from what little she understood of it, a miraculously alive nephew. 

Harry. It was really Harry. 

She allowed herself one last look, soaking in the sight of him, happy, in love, alive. Then Petunia Dursley straightened her skirt, squared her shoulders, and disappeared into the crowd. She still needed to collect Vernon’s trousers.

**Author's Note:**

> I have somehow never posted HP fanfiction, though I've been reading it since I knew what fanfiction was. I hope you enjoy this little drabble about Petunia Dursley and a moment that I like to think happened sometime after the battle and before Harry and Ginny's marriage. I'd love to hear your comments if you somehow manage to stumble across this story in the vast world of HP fanfiction!


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